Linger
by Silver Dragon 2488
Summary: After a Nameless breaks Caim and Angelus' pact, Angelus continues on into present times, grudgingly becoming a part in human society as she searches for the whereabouts of the Nameless. However, chance reunites her with a few old companions... CA
1. Prelude

Okay. This idea has been fermenting inside my noggin for a while now, but I haven't been too sure of it. The premise is less than original, and frankly, AU's aren't usually done very well in the general world of fan fiction. Still, even with these thoughts in my head, I keep going through these tiny scenes, and I can't help but laugh. Perhaps this one will be one of the small few that breaks through the mold and isn't too hard on the eyes.

However, your feedback on this is extremely important. My feelings on this fic are a bit precarious, so your reviews can swing them either way. The story's fate is linked to this feedback.

You hold the powah.

**Linger**

**Prelude**

It was damn annoying.

The chimera's twin, hideous heads roared at the both of us as its drool and blood flung onto Caim's brown head. He snarled in disgust and raised his sword higher to prepare for an attack, screaming into my mind that we should kill the thing before it got another chance to attack. I agreed.

Pushing forward with my strained, crimson wings, I dove to the right and flipped myself over to have a straight shot at the creature's underbelly. The chimera, confused at my aerial maneuver, stood still in the red sky a bit too long than it should have. I threw more than a few fireballs at the grotesque monster, which was enough to reduce it to repugnant cinders. I righted myself in the air as Caim patted my hide, proud that I had been able to do away with such a beast.

I turned my head to get a glance at the warrior mounted on my back. He was somewhat wounded (then again, when wasn't he?) and panting from his earlier excursions on the ground. His right arm had been sliced, but it would heal well enough if he stayed put where he was. I growled at the thought; there was no way he'd sit idly by and allow me to kill everything.

The Goddess had been slain about a week ago, and we were now making our way to the Imperial City; a place that had once been the jewel of the human race, but then the Manah brat and her armies turned it into something Hell would be proud of. I was concerned about Caim's morale for a few days after the Goddess' suicide, but I was a fool to worry. If anything, it made it stronger. The others, the old man, the hermit, the insane elf and the child were traveling on foot, teetering after us as fast as they could. Caim and I didn't worry about them; this was our mission after all. They were simply along for the ride.

I felt Caim's bloodlust rise as a new shadow approached us. I, however, became a bit more wary. This was no mere flock of bats, or griffins, or even the chimeras I had just gotten through with. No, this was something much larger, and much more dangerous than any of the other threats. Caim shifted uneasily as I slowed in the air.

_What are you doing?_ he asked impatiently. _We don't have time for this. The Imperial City is just ahead!_

I glared at the looming shadow on the horizon. The one shadow was making its way toward us -far faster than I could ever travel- and my feeling of foreboding intensified. Even the Caim human seemed to pick up on it, but his courage held steadfast. For a brief moment, I admired him, but I quickly erased the blasphemous thought. The only reason he wasn't scared was because he was too bloodthirsty and stupid to notice the trouble we were about to be in.

It was then that I placed that strange weight in my stomach, that feeling of dread. That feeling was reserved for one race and one race alone:

The Nameless.

I almost turned and fled right then and there. I knew that I was not near powerful enough to take on a Nameless, but it was far too close to not have noticed us. The Arch Dragons were the ones gifted with the power to defeat the Nameless, or at least hold them at bay. The New Breed was still being concocted, our secret weapon against the Nameless. Uncharacteristic panic began to race through me. What should I do? What could I do?

The Caim human noticed my sudden panic and leaned down to catch a glimpse of my face. …_Are you all right?_ he asked doubtfully.

_"Caim…"_ I began slowly, trying to calm myself back down. _"…do you know what horror that shadow belongs to?"_

I saw him take a confused glance toward the shadow, then back to me. …_Does it really matter?_

_"Yes!"_ I snarled back at him. _"That thing that is almost within firing range is a Nameless!"_

His confusion was so pure that I almost bit off his head in frustration. How could the humans be so painfully ignorant of the world around them? Did they not have eyes, or ears? _"One of the bloody Gods you worship, you feeble-minded lunatic!"_

That seemed to have rung a dusty bell, and he sat back, staring in awe at approaching shadow. _A… _he stammered. _A God…?_

I snarled as I began to take a sharp turn away from the Nameless. I needed cover for whatever I was about to do. Caim tried to protest, but I smothered his complaint with my own anger and frustration. The one thing I didn't need was his own confusion cluttering up my mind.

A sudden fireball to my side caught me off guard and knocked the wind both out of my lungs and wings, and I began to plummet to the ground. After a few moments of chaotic struggling in the air, I managed a landing and somehow avoided breaking a bone. Shaking the dirt and rocks from my head, I looked up to see the Nameless and something else floating carelessly down towards us. I snarled again; there was no way out now.

The thing that had fired at me came down first, and I instantly recognized him. The black sheep of dragon-kind. The Traitor. Rogg.

Long ago, when the Arch Dragons were concocting their plans to defeat the Nameless, Rogg took their plans and told the Nameless. The result was the countless deaths of the Holy Dragons. Rogg became the Nameless' pet dog, attacking at his own kind whenever the Nameless willed him. Before he could permanently stay with the Nameless, however, the higher Council of Arch Dragons decided to give him a parting gift. They took his forearms and legs from him, which left him as a flying serpent. I had happened to be in the crowd at the Tomb when they ripped his limbs from his body and then tossed him over the side. The bastard deserved what he got.

He didn't look too different from when he had legs. Dark splotches of skin were all that remained of his departed limbs, nothing more than large scabs. He was a truly ugly brute; his hide a hideous reddish-brown, reminiscent of feces, and his awkward, bulky, serpentine body writhed strangely in the air. He had a large, cumbersome head with four and a half ivory horns. (One was broken in half). His red eyes glowered down at me as he circled to land -more like plop down- on the rocky ground. _"There's no escape now, Female," _Rogg grunted out, _"This Nameless is particularly mad at you."_

Caim shifted uneasily on my back, which alerted Rogg to his presence. _"Ah,"_ the Traitor commented, _"there's your human. You are pitiful, Female. You need assistance from a mere human. They're nothing more than playthings for the mighty Nameless!"_

_"And you mate with Nameless rats," _I retorted angrily. The Traitor snorted, creating a cloud of dust and smoke as he did so.

**SILENCE**, a voice commanded. The Traitor and I looked up to see the Nameless, which looked like a giant, stone human infant with purple electric wings, float down from the red sky. It shifted into the form of a young human woman and gently touched the Traitor's head. Rogg almost purred as it touched his misshapen head, and then it floated gracefully down to the rocky earth. I tensed. We were about to die.

The Nameless turned to Caim and I with its stone, static face. **YOU FOOLISH CREATURES,** its booming "voice" scolded, **YOU DARE TO DEFY OUR PLANS. THE MANAH CHILD IS OUR PET. STOP YOUR MEDDLING.**

I growled. _"Never."_ Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the Caim human shift slightly on my back again. It seemed he didn't really know what to make of the creature before him. He would soon enough.

The thing's empty stone eyes then turned directly to me, or so I thought. Its hand rose, and suddenly, Caim's weight disappeared. I turned to see him hovering on my back, his mouth agape and his limbs fluttering, uncertain of what to do. With a smooth motion from the Nameless' hand, Caim was flung to the ground about fifty feet from me, kicking up red dust as he did. Immediately, I lurched forward to get him back, but the Traitor lunged at me, catching me under his tremendous weight. Snarling and snapping at my captor, I used my wing thumbs as arms to try and pry myself out from under the beast, but it was no use. Rogg was simply too heavy for me to lift. As added security, the Traitor bit onto the back of my neck and pushed my head to the ground. _"Stay there," _was his simple comment.

Caim began to pick himself up, but with a motion from the Nameless, he fell straight back down. I snarled as the Nameless took a few steps to become between the two of us. As it stared down at me, it said, **YOU, ANGELUS. YOU HAVE REBELLED AGAINST US, AND FOR THAT, YOU MUST BE SMITTEN WITH THE REPERCUSSIONS.**

Before I could brace myself for anything, the Nameless' arms stretched to reach both Caim and myself. As it touched me, a surge of energy pulled through my body, ripping and tearing as it pleased. I opened my eyes and realized that I was screaming in both mental and physical voice. Through the hideous, blinding pain, I registered that I could hear another voice as well. Before my racked mind could register anything, the energy stopped flowing and I thudded back to the dusty earth. As the Nameless turned and floated back into the sky, Rogg slid off of me and awkwardly flew behind his god, throwing insults back to me.

Panting, I slowly lifted my head to look at my partner, who lay motionless on the ground. I tried to search for his mind, but there was an emptiness there. It was as if a void had replaced his presence. Despite the pain that still throbbed through my body, I pushed myself to all fours and slowly made my way toward his recumbent form. _"…Caim…?"_

At the sound of my voice, his head turned slightly, and he pulled his body to where he could see me. It seemed half of him was paralyzed. "I didn't… know your name… was Angelus…" he coughed out between pants. I recoiled at the sound of his rough, broken voice; the Nameless had shattered our pact. I leaned closer to his broken body and nudged his head and neck with my snout. He lightly slapped my nose with the back of his gloved hand and said, "S… Stop that… I'm not… dead yet…" He hacked out a small pool of blood and let his head go limp on the ground once more. "Bloody… vulture… can't… even wait… 'til I'm dead…"

His weak words sent pangs through my chest. The Nameless' magic had been too much for his frail, human body. Mine, however, was strong enough to survive the rather gruesome encounter with the Nameless' magic. A pained growl mumbled through my chest and neck. Though we had been traveling together for only few short months, and despite myself, I had grown fond of the bloodthirsty savage.

I lay down completely beside him, placing my head close enough to Caim to the point where he could easily touch me. A soft rumble vibrated through me as he smirked and stretched out his good hand to my snout, slowly petting me. I could only watch with pained sorrow as he withdrew his hand and took a few more shaking breaths until his eyes rolled up into his head and stopped moving altogether. His lungs let out his final breath, heavy and hesitant.

For a moment, I didn't move. I couldn't. What was I supposed to do now? Continue with the quest to defeat the Manah brat in Caim's memory? Or simply fly off and wait for the world's inevitable end? I sighed and closed my eyes. It didn't matter anymore… I curled my entire body around Caim's corpse, holding him in an awkward embrace.

It didn't matter…

…………

Yay, sucky prelude! Angelus all angsty and evil. Boo. I can't write her that way. That's why this thing seems so… odd. And badly written. But still, this is necessary for the rest of the story, so I had to complete it before getting on to the better parts.

This was forced-written. This is what happens when I force myself to write. It comes out all crappy-like. Bleh.

But for the sake of the story and my sanity, please keep going to the second -and much better- chapter.


	2. Another Day

**Linger**

**Chapter One**

**Another Day**

It was damn annoying.

Some moron had decided to try and turn left in the one place everyone in America knows NOT to turn left in. There was no protective green, so he -and through him, I and the other thirty people stuck in that particular lane- got to wait until an opportunity presented itself. Which it wouldn't, I knew, until about lunch time, which was a good five hours from now. I snarled, an expression rather reminiscent of the "good ole' days", and impatiently tapped my pale fingers on the leather steering wheel. Rear-ending the insolent bastard was becoming very tempting…

I took an irked glance at my wrist watch, even though I was already painfully aware of the time, since the last time I checked it was twenty-seven seconds ago. I had ten minutes to make it to my destination, which on a normal, asshole-free day, was fifteen minutes away.

Another sigh was heaved from my chest, and I decided that the backup plan was to be ensued. I took another look at the cretin of a human in the car ahead, and saw that it was some adolescent male talking on his cell, probably to his equally hormonal girlfriend counterpart about when they should consummate their three week anniversary. A grin my own counterpart would have been proud of spread across my pale face. Yes, the backup plan would be needed.

Out of the ever-useful small plastic container that was fitted into my car came a .38 caliber, loaded and ready to go. I casually leaned out of the window, aimed at the concrete just behind the rear wheel and shot. Just as I intended, the horny teenager and his paint-lacking truck skidded out of the left lane and into the oncoming traffic rather quickly. Smiling, I put the gun away back in its wonderful little hole and made a mental note that I would have to stop by the ammunition shop on the way home.

…………

It wasn't long after Caim was murdered that another Goddess was found. Verdelet seemed useful in one practice, and that was singling out the poor girl doomed to be the new Goddess. Some young infant called "Eris" or some such nonsense. I don't really recall because the matter no longer interested me. In fact, most of the issues that arose after Caim's demise no longer concerned me; anything remotely associated to him was a rather tender nerve.

After about a decade, I flew to the small island now known as Ireland. I quickly reconsidered, since the Native humans didn't take my coming too well, and went back to the Drakengard lands, presently known as Europe. The land was much different than when I left it; Verdelet had started some military cult known as the Knights of the Seal, and the Eris child was weakly and sick because of the Goddess Seal. After her death, the Nameless, for some unknown reason, let the need for a Goddess Seal dissipate, and allowed mankind to thrive. That was the end of the Dark Ages, and I made my way to Iceland. The only thing I really recall about Iceland was the abundance of sheep.

I never felt the heart to go back to that particular region of the lands Caim and I trekked through, but I suppose everything worked out. The skies never fell apart and became a chaotic, blood red, and the dead didn't rise. Save for one close call somewhere near that contraption called "Stonehenge" sometime around the 17th century, but I had nothing to do with that.

I forget when, but I eventually flew to America, or at least the lands of it. The Natives, though skeptical, more or less left me alone, which made me all the merrier. I didn't have any real contact with them until one of their stray children asked me if I knew anything about these "white devils" coming to their lands and if I could do anything about them. When I saw that it was just more humans and not the Nameless, I told him and his people that they were no real threat as long as he and his people were smarter than they were.

But that was before I knew about guns.

After the European humans more or less decimated the Natives with their fewer numbers and filthy diseases, I began to worry about myself. These new humans were awful curious, no longer bound by the superstitions of old that kept their damnable curiosity at bay. They were more than willing to test the limits, and I knew that if I were to be captured, I'd end up as a hide to trade or worse, a freak show.

Using the mountains -the Appalachians, I believe is the human name for them- to my advantage as a natural barrier, I flew further and further West, seeking solitude from these inquisitive pests. However, human "ingenuity" (which was just laziness and curiosity manifest) created railways and canals, and I found myself on the edge of what is now known as California. With nothing but the far-reaching ocean on one side and the threat of more humans on the other, I moved myself back up into the lands of Washington state, hopefully to hide in the cold weather and mountains up there. However, more humans began to enclose in on me, and by the 18th century, I flew back into California, which, to my dismay, held gold and Spaniards.

Infuriated by the brash actions of the "Spaniard" humans further south of my hiding spot, I flew back to the Eastern Seaboard, more specifically, Massachusetts. And even more specifically, Salem. Fifty or so years passed, during which time, I realized that the humans were going to completely take the entire continent over. Knowing what would happen to me if I didn't conform, I attempted a humanoid evolution.

Fortunately, I don't look a lot like I did then, but it was the best I could have done at that time. I had the form of a large, human female with bright red hair and yellow eyes. My skin was fair, for the parts that weren't still ridden with random specs of scales. Underdeveloped wings were attached to my back, but I was proud of myself that I had managed to lose the tail and horns.

However, by the time I finished my handiwork, a plague amongst the village's wheat plants spread rapidly, and made many humans ill and delusional to the point that they thought they could fly. (I thought it rather hilarious.) Word of witches putting people under spells and witchcraft and all of this nonsense (I say nonsense because all of the sorcerers died out after the Nameless left) spread even faster than the disease itself, and soon, almost every female was suspected of witchcraft. I myself lived on the outskirts, entering the village only whenever necessary, but on one such day, I accidentally bumped into a local village woman, and my cloak came off, revealing my shriveled, useless wings.

Needless to say, I was convicted of being a witch.

The villagers did not get a chance to burn me because, simply put, I killed most of them and fled.

After roaming the wilderness for what seemed like ages, I finally found a suitable cave that, once I frightened the bears out of, was quite cozy. I honed my human form as fast as I could, but I didn't completely finish until after the country's war in 1812, probably the most useless bloody confrontation in the world's history.

It was then that I made my debut into society, and from then on, I made a routine out of life. I would live amongst the humans -however disgusting and filthy they may be- for twenty some odd years, fake my own untimely demise, wait another fifty years, then repeat the process under a new name. Through this routine, I have been able to witness some of the human's greatest achievements (such as the automobile, the moon landing, the television, air conditioning and the Snickers Bar), and laughed at their follies, i.e. semi-automatic weapons, President Taft, the 60's in general, hula hoops, and most recently, Brittany Spears.

During the present time lot that I am in the middle of, I have swiftly become the co-partner in a titling company called "Universal Land Titling", mainly for one reason:

I'm looking for "it".

I parked my blue Honda Accord in my reserved spot, smiling when my gaze came upon a small, off-white moped chained and leaning against a yellow post. It seemed he was already here. How wonderful.

As soon as I opened the door, a man with bright red, disheveled hair, black-rimmed glasses and panicked reddish-brown eyes and a nametag that read "Arthur" stumbled out of his cubicle and almost tripped on the flat carpet in front of me. "Angie!" he cried hysterically. "Angie, thank God you're here! I need your help!"

Sighing as I removed my coat and briskly, steadily walked toward my own office, I replied in a bored, indifferent tone, "What is it _now_, Badger?"

Badger, who had been nicknamed that after an unfortunate run-in with alcohol and stripping, walked beside me, pointing at a stack of papers in his shaking hand -unfinished orders, from the look of it- anxiously. "Angie, I can't do all of this on my own. You need to get someone else!"

"I did," I replied calmly as I unlocked my office door. "I got Lillian, didn't I?"

Badger slammed the stack of papers on a nearby empty desk -no one was here this early besides the two of us- angrily, the force of which sent his Harry Pottery-esque glasses off of the bridge of his nose and down across his face. I turned and glanced at him, amused that he would try and be angry. He was one of the most submissive humans I had ever met. "No, Angie! She doesn't count!"

"Why ever not?"

Badger suddenly remembered his place, and his posture sank back into its crouching, recumbent form. "I uh…" he stammered, "Well, she doesn't… she doesn't help me with the orders… She doesn't help at all, really…"

I "hmm"ed doubtfully and entered my office, turning on the fluorescent lights and plopping down into my comfy leather chair. Badger's eyes widened as my hand reached for the power button of my computer. "Wait, Angie, please, this is important."

I shook my head as I hit the button, causing the machine to rev and hum with life. The screen came on, and at the bottom, was the loading percentage bar. It, after the many years that Badger had worked under me, had become his worst nemesis. I placed my head on my hand, which was propped up against my smooth, obsidian desk.

It was on. I smirked as his trembling, sweaty hands gripped the papers. "06." I stated simply.

He wasted no time. "Angie, listen to me. If we can't get someone else in-"

"12."

"-then…" he stumbled as he lost his train of thought. "…Then I can't get these orders in fast enough to the closers!"

"26."

"I-I mean, we'll fall behind! We'll fall further behind than we already are, and…"

"Oop," I commented airily as the Yellow Bar of Doom shot up a huge amount. "67. Running out of time, Badger."

His trembling expanded to his arms and legs. "A-Angie, please…!"

"You're almost out of time, Badger. I'd spend it more carefully, rather than simply stammer away the percentage. You only have…" I squinted at the screen. "29 left."

He squeaked like only a man like Badger could, then proclaimed angrily, "You should fire Lillian and hire someone else more useful!"

Badger seemed to expect that I be proud of him for finally getting his point out across to me. I wasn't, however. "You've told me that already. And I've already asked once, 'What ever for?'" He stared at me blankly, confusion and fear mixed in his pitiful gaze. "Oh," I added buoyantly, "and you have 13 to go."

"Because… Because…" he struggled, wringing the stack of orders in his hands.

"Because you only have 9 left?" I supplied.

His floundering for words became more pathetic. "Because… because… because… she… she…!"

I smiled to myself. This was his time to shine. "5, Badger."

He sucked in a load of shaky air, then shouted, "BECAUSE SHE'S A USELESS BITCH THAT GETS HERE LATE AND SHE'S EVIL BECAUSE A COUPLE OF DAYS AGO SHE STUCK GUM ON THE SEAT OF MY CHAIR AND I SAT IN IT AND NOW THEY'RE RUINED AND I HATE HER!"

Leaning back in my ever-so comfortable chair and examined him with calm, calculating eyes. "So, you don't like her."

He panted for a bit before answering. "I… guess not…"

"So that would make your opinion biased."

Badger gasped as he realized he walked right into my trap. "Wait…"

My eyebrows escalated as I turned to the monitor, which was happily reporting that the computer was up and running through high-pitched beeps. "Oh dear," I stated slowly, "it seems the computer's booted." Badger's shoulders slumped, his hope now shattered, as I turned my attention back to my machine. "You know what that means, Badger."

"B-but…" he started, and I nonchalantly picked up my stapler gun.

"The computer's booted, Badger." I glared at him from the corner of my eye. "Go away."

He sighed and reached for the door handle. "Yes'm…"

I smiled as he walked out with the crumpled stack of papers in his hands. Today didn't seem to be a total loss, it seemed. I would get to fire someone.

…………

Okaaay….

So….? What do you guys think? If ya'll don't like it, fine. I'll take it off and you'll never see it again. But… if you do…?

Please respond.

Ja!


	3. Opportunities Arise

Simply amazing. You guys kinda like it. o.0

Now starts the beginning of the switching perspectives. I will always narrate from the first-person POV, but I will switch who I am narrating. I will put the name of the current narrator at the beginning of the chapter, and if there are any switches during said chapter, I'll put the next name before they begin narrating.

Make sense? Probably not. But here we go anyway.

Warning for Cael's dirty mouth.

…You'll find out who he is later in the chapter.

**Linger**

**Chapter Two**

**Opportunities Arise**

**Angelus**

I should probably mention that Badger is the Inuart human's reincarnation.

For as long as it's been since Caim's rather untimely demise, I have never run into one of his reincarnations. I figure that's probably due to the fact that his soul is, more than likely, burning in limbo for all of the horrid things he committed in his previous life. After all, he and I did murder countless humans, even if they were all slimy Imperial jackals. However, I have, on numerous occasions, run into the Inuart's reincarnations.

It didn't really shock me when I ran into him the first time. It was during my time in Spain -which was only a few weeks- and I had stumbled upon a missionary full of mute, chocolate-making Spanish monks. The Inuart Monk Counterpart (which will be later referred to as the IMC; I didn't get his name then because a, he was Spanish, and b, he had taken an oath of silence) was the bell ringer, and looked something similar to a mule. The only thing remarkable about him was that he was very generous and gave me most of their chocolate bricks. Then again, he couldn't verbally protest to my consumption of them, but that doesn't matter. It would probably be good to note that he was killed in the belfry; he was crushed by one of the bells.

The second time was when the American Civil War occurred. The IMC had changed to the IREC, or the Inuart Real Estate Counterpart. I met him shortly after finding my way into society with my new human form, where he tried to sell me real estate. Shortly after our conversation, he was crushed by a runaway cannon. (On a similar note, General Sherman, the one who burnt Atlanta, was Arioch's Civil War counterpart. I haven't come across her since.)

The third time was during the Great Depression, when lent was worth more than American stock and when glass held more agricultural potential than the native soil. He had gone from IREC to IOWC, or rather, the Inuart Old Woman Counterpart. I met "her" in front of a dilapidated, dust-ridden house trying to find something to eat. She happily took me into her home, fed me, then ushered me back out before the "gub'mint" discovered she was still on her property. I found out not long after that, that during one of the common dust storms, her old home had been blown over, and she had been crushed underneath the moldy debris.

The fourth and final time before I met Badger was in the 60's. The IOWC had finally "evolved" into the IHC. I had somehow ended up in Woodstock while the infamous Who were playing there. I was trying to find someone still sober and knew how to speak the English language when I stumbled across him, the IHC, or the Inuart Hippie Counterpart. I didn't actually recognize him until he said "gub'mint". He told me what I needed to know, and I went on my way whilst trying to find a means to remove the stench of weed from my clothes. I read in the paper a few weeks later that he had been run over by a tour bus. (I should also mention that Richard Nixon was Verdelet's reincarnation.)

Which brings me to the present day Inuart human counterpart: Badger. Near eight years ago, the twenty year-old Badger -then known as Arthur- came in for the interview as my understudy. The titling company was small then, newly created. Badger had the look of hope in his eyes, and when I first saw him, I instantly knew who he was and decided to have him on the team. After all, he is the one human that most resembles a welcome mat.

However, even a man of Badger's temperament can be pushed to the limit. Apparently, the Lillian girl I hired a few weeks ago wasn't working out, and was stressing Badger even more so than he already was (which I thought impossible). She had to be eliminated. I smiled as I paged my secretary, a young woman by the name of Shay, and asked with a hint of malice in my smooth voice, "Shay, send Lillian in. We need to have a chat."

After a second, Shay's computed voice came back through the sleek black speaker next to my desk. "Yes, ma'am."

My smirk widened as I opened a drawer and found a small stopwatch, something I had acquired from a dirty hobo when I made partner. (For those of you who think I stole it, think again; I traded my bottle of vodka for it.) After a few moments, a short, bubble-gum popping middle-aged woman came clopping into my office. She wasn't that remarkable as far as human women go. What attracted men to her, from what I could tell, was her "sassy" nature. When I hired her that fatal day two weeks ago, I hadn't paid too much attention to her and her "sassiness". I pulled out the hobo stopwatch and pushed the button. My record for inducing tears was 15.03 seconds.

"So, what is this, like, about?" Lillian asked as she popped her gum. "'Cause I have, like, a thing to get to right now, and I really need to like, get there. You know?" I glared as she smacked her gum and suddenly got the impression of a giraffe munching on grass. Or a cow.

"Well, the thing is, Lillian," I began slowly, "I don't like you."

Her smacking stopped for a minute and her mouth hung open, revealing the offending piece of gum. My nose wrinkled in disgust as I examined the shriveled thing with morbid fascination. It was glistening in all of the spittle in her mouth, and was a dull gray color. How revolting… "What are you saying?" she asked, completely astounded that her amazing people skills had not amazed me.

The gum looked like a slug in her mouth… I shook my head to get back onto the current subject. After all, I had a time to beat. "Well, you suck at your job, for one. Your production rate is something to laugh at, while most -if not all- of your co-workers have complained about you one time or another. Some more than others…" I straightened a few piles of papers on the side of my desk as I watched Lillian's reaction. Water was welling up in her eyes, but no true tears yet…

She fanned herself with a manicured hand as she talked. "I don't f'in believe this!" she cried, her piece of gum threatening to pop out. "I mean, I'm like, awesome at anything I do, and…" She batted her eyes as she tried to reach for the suitable word (but with her limited vocabulary, I didn't think she'd ever find it) and I watched, almost on the edge of my seat. The water was welling up behind a dam of bad mascara, threatening to fall. I clutched my stopwatch; I was almost there…! "I can't like, believe this is, like, happening!"

At last, she batted her eyes for the last time and the first tear fell, leaving a blackened trail of makeup in its wake. I clicked the stopwatch and looked in victorious glee at the time: 8:54. That was a record. Lillian watched in horror as I happily pulled out a worn sheet and wrote her name and the time down. "What the hell is that?" she demanded.

"A time recording," I replied smoothly as I put the record sheet back into my desk. "But that has nothing to do with this." I clasped my hands and rested my head on them, giving Lillian a confused look. "Why are you still here? You're fired."

Lillian took a glance around the room, her anger building. After taking the very few decorations, she glared at me and stood out of her chair. "You are such an f'in bitch!"

"Well, it's better than being a whore," I responded coolly, keeping in my comfy leather chair. "Goodbye, Lillian. Remember, use plastic wrap. Not all of your customers are clean, especially the ones hanging around that street corner."

I waved amiably as she stormed out of my office, muttering to herself angrily. As the door to my office closed softly, I leaned back and sighed as my gaze fell to my monitor. Time to find someone to replace Lillian…

…………

**Cael**

It was damn annoying.

Working in Customer Service in any kind of business is bound to suck, simply because of the nature of the job. Retail and fast food are probably the worst, but I was in something far, far worse than any burger-peddling adolescence or store clerk could ever face.

An obsessive-compulsive 70 year old woman, bitching about something that I had no clue about.

I sighed as I switched hands to lean my head on. She had been rambling about something for about forty-five minutes now, well off the original grievance that she had come in to complain about. I gave a somber glance to the clock, which read 3:56. I had missed my chance for a lunch. I sighed again and lolled my head back towards the angry old lady. When would this walking corpse ever shut the hell--

"Were you even listening to me, young man?" she demanded, to which I sighed and placed my hand back on my desk.

"For the first ten grueling minutes, yes," I replied wearily. "But when you started bitching about your neighbor's dog? Yeah, I turned off right about there."

She huffed and stomped her heeled -and probably bunion-ridden- foot on the carpeted floor. "Where is customer service?" she growled.

I smirked and pointed a finger to my gilded name tag placed in front of my desk. Her eyes and nostrils flared and she glanced around the office, searching for something in her rage. "Then where is your manager? I want to talk to him and get you fired."

As I turned to direct her to the janitor's closet, a bald man approached me, a small slip of paper in his plump hand. My own hand fell as he looked at me, then to the angry old bag, and shook his head. "Cael," he stated tiredly. "Because of the amount of complaints we've gotten about you, I have to let you go."

I gasped as he handed me the slip of paper, which wasn't an actual pink slip at all. I took a quick glance at it, and I read a couple of words: "Dr. Pepper" and "Cheetos". I simply smirked and slipped the paper under my desk to where the old gargoyle couldn't read it (then again, with her withering eyesight, she probably couldn't even with a microscope and a pair of glasses as thick as my arm). "Well," I began smoothly, "it's not so bad, I suppose. I still have that other job I can fall back on for a while."

My boss nodded and cocked his head thoughtfully. "Oh yeah, the one at the strip joint?"

"Yeah," I nonchalantly replied as the old hag's eyes grew.

My boss glanced down at me with his hand on his chin. "What was it you do again?"

"I'm the jizz janit--"

"Pardon me!" the old bag shouted. "This is NOT appropriate for anyone's ears, much less my own!" She glared at my boss, who was as put-off by annoying customers as much as I was. He used to be a manager over at Wal-Mart, so it's easy to imagine what he had to go through. In fact, that job was the reason he was more jaded and cynical than I could ever hope to be.

The bag pointed a wrinkled, shriveled finger at him and glared through her thick glasses. "I'm calling your upper management and get you fired as well! And you!" She then pointed her hideous remnant of a finger to me. "You _should_ be fired. You are a disrespectful little maggot. I'm looking forward to the day when I can throw my spare pennies to you on the side of the road." She gave a curt nod, then left. I nonchalantly flipped her off and glanced at the pocketed note more closely. It looked more like a grocery list.

"You know, Bill," I stated as he chuckled, "I know we've been together for a long time, but I don't think I'm ready for this kind of commitment." As he gave me a very confused look, I held the slip up to him. "A grocery list? What am I, a discarded housewife?"

He chuckled again and took the slip of paper back. "Oh, sorry. I gave you the wrong one. This one's meant for Sarah…" (Sarah's the receptionist.) He shoved the grocery list back into his coat pocket and rummaged through another for something else. After a few moments, he pulled another slip out, glanced at it, and after an approving nod, handed it to me. I stared at it for a long time. After the years of joking about it, it seemed surreal that I was actually being transferred. "You're… actually getting rid of me?"

He sighed and leaned on my desk, which gave a mellow groan. "Cael, I wouldn't want to give you up, but this is an order from higher up than me. This is an order from one of the owning partners, name of Angela. Her plant in Los Angeles wants you there."

My mouth floundered like a fish as my stomach fell to my feet. "Los… Los Angeles?"

Bill nodded slowly. "Yeah… You'll be working directly under the co-partner of the company." He leaned in closer as the shock began to settle in. "So don't screw up. I heard she's a real bitch."

…………

I'm really bad at ending these chapters now, aren't I?

And so, enter Cael Wolff. Three guesses as to who that is.

Anyway, give feedback. Mucho love.

Ja!


	4. Enter Cael Wolff

It's nice to know that the fic that you aren't real sure of is actually good. Thanks, guys. You brightened up my day. In fact, this chapter has been almost ready since the day I uploaded the second chapter (since the prelude doesn't count). Yay.

Got my paypal all straightened out; no more angst! At least, not for that…

**Linger**

**Chapter Three**

**Enter Cael Wolff**

**Cael**

I hate people.

Generally, I get along with certain individual human beings. Generally. But the general majority of the populace within my encounter radius provokes every little hateful thought in my twisted mind. Like my current bus buddy, Moe. But I'll elaborate more on that when the time comes.

My current home is in Denver, Colorado. However, due to the fact that I was just recently transferred to the plant in Los Angeles and therefore uprooted very suddenly, I have to move every possession down to my new apartment in said city. Fortunately, I am engaged, and my fiancee is arranging for the formal move of our larger possessions later on in the week. However, that means that she gets to stay in our nice little house while I get to sit on a dank, dingy, rattling bus that reeks of piss and vomit with my ever-faithful bus buddy, Moe.

Which brings me back to my original point. I hate people.

Moe laughed, his snaggletooth shimmering in the gray light. "Dude, that is so freakin' awesome!"

I glared. His breath reeked of something dead. I assumed it was of the last person he sucked the life out. "…What?" I muttered as I tried to block the stench of death from my poor nostrils.

"Your name, dude!" he replied cheerfully, his snaggletooth still gleaming at me. My eyes widened as I saw it wink at me. "You're name's freaking 'Wolf'!"

Snarling, I turned my head to give my nose a reprieve from the putrid reek. "No, my name is 'Wolff'. Two 'f''s."

Despite the spelling, the nomenclature coincidence was too much for Moe's brain, so, of course, he began to howl. "Hey, hey dude!" he began with his snaggletooth in full view, "I'm callin' you, dude! Awoo! Awwwoooo!" He laughed as my anger fermented. "Dude, whenever your phone rings, do you like, howl at it?" When I merely glared at him, he laughed again and continued his horrible howling.

Unfortunately for Moe, he had no idea that I suffer from uncontrollable rage. Whenever something -or, as is the usual case, someone- pisses me off to my "breaking point" (as my psychiatrist put it all those years ago) I tend to become… a bit violent. Enough to the point where I now have medication for said rage, but unfortunately for Moe, I left it back in Denver.

My clenched fist flew on its own into Moe's temple, making his newly injured head smash into the bus window's thick glass. The surprised yelp he gave out was stifled by the sound of the glass window shattering, which made the bus screech to a swerving stop. The other passengers stared at me in horror as I stood over him, his head covered in dark blood. I then realized that I was panting, Moe's blood was on my fist, and that the bus driver was slowly taking out a stun gun.

I sighed and let my fist relax by my side. "…I guess I'll be walking, huh?"

…………

**Angelus**

It still haunts me. The Nameless.

The dreams were more frequent back in the old days, when I was still in my own dragon form. When Caim's death was still fresh on my mind. Now, however, they've lessened significantly. Still, even though they have dwindled to a mere couple a year, their potency is still quite disturbing.

Although I may have "evolved" into a more humanoid shape than I ever thought I could become, I still have draconian attributes: some magic, my eye color, my senses in general, my physical strength, and more importantly, my memory. Dragons' memories are far more detailed and accurate than fuzzy human memory. Which is why when I have those memories infiltrate my dreams, I can smell Caim's blood saturating the air around me, feel his limp body draped over my abused scales, hear his staggering gasps for air… and even watch helplessly as his eyes glaze over. I wake up in a pool of sweat and tears, my slender hands almost clawing at my face.

I had just woken up from just such an occasion.

I sat up in my satin bed, panting. I glanced down to my still shaking hands, dismayed at my own weakness. Snarling, I threw a pillow at my wall, furious that I wasn't strong enough to withstand those awful nightmares that relentlessly plagued me. It wasn't just the imagery that caused my rage; it was the emotions that I felt during Caim's death. I felt them all over again, the hate, the confusion, the fear and the anguish. The feelings that no dragon should ever feel for a human.

I closed my eyes as my breathing returned to its normal pace. I had admitted to myself long ago that I missed Caim, the damn lunatic. It certainly explained why my subconscious repeated those memories as I slept. Sighing at the thought, I glanced at my closet door, which was slightly ajar. Pale moonlight gently shone on a leaning object inside my closet. As my gaze rested on the illuminated metal, a soft, nostalgic smile graced my lips.

The sword felt scarred and light in my hands; in a normal woman's grip, however, she would have had to lift it with both hands. Since Caim's sword held magic in its steel, it had resisted the test of time rather well, considering it was either in my mouth or a large backpack. The blood of Caim's victims still stained the otherwise silver blade, giving the sword a scarlet gleam in the faint moonlight. The finely hand-crafted hilt was marred and almost broken, thanks to Caim's carelessness. A deep rift that cut across the hand guard to the actual blade in a diagonal ravine was the main scar, probably from one of the Empire's heavily armored, pole axe-armed guards that dwelled in the flying fortress.

I set the sword down in its spot by the closet door and went to my empty desk. I opened the top drawer, and, after rearranging a few papers inside, found what I was looking for. I removed the small piece of black armor and held it up to the light thoughtfully. A small piece of Caim's breastplate no larger than my hand, it was the only other memento of him other than his sword. I lowered my hand back down to my chest and looked the shard over. It was a small puzzle piece far from the rest of its mates.

A light beeping from my bedside table jerked me out of my reverie, causing me to drop the shard of armor back into its drawer. I sighed once more and reached back into my closet not for Caim's sword, but for one of my suits.

Today was, after all, a workday.

…………

**Cael**

I stood, at long last, in front of the Universal Land Titling building with my suitcase full of stuff, four tickets for "disorderly behavior" that collectively amounted to $1500 (I hit a couple of arrogant pot-dealers, a bitchy old lady and a hot dog vendor) and a half-empty bag of Cheetos. I took in a deep breath of victory; I had made it in one piece.

Triumphantly, I strolled into the lobby, where a redheaded lunatic with glasses assaulted me with questions. "Who are you? What are you doing here? What's in the bag? What are those papers for, are you a government spy? What do you want?" He glared at me through his black-rimmed spectacles, his mouth set in a deep scowl, expecting an answer.

"Uh…" I replied intelligently, "I, uh… I work here?"

The man scowled. "I need to see some ID."

I cocked my brow as I scanned over his shirt. He had a beaten name badge that read "Arthur", but no security badge. "And why, exactly, should I show you anything other than a lewd finger gesture?"

The Arthur guy seemed shocked, and then, in a total flip of personality, hunched his shoulders and clasped his trembling hands. "I, uh… Well… I uh…"

Footsteps echoed to my left, to where I saw another man about my age. He had missheveled sandy brown hair, bright blue eyes (which, strangely, reminded me of my fiancee's) and an equally bright smile. My stomach churned. I never get along with happy people.

The new guy clasped a hand on Arthur's shoulder, hard enough to where a grunt came out of the redhead. "Badger, why don't you go back to your cubicle, eh?" the new guy suggested amiably in between smacks of his gum. "I think Angela wants to talk to you."

Arthur's eyes widened in fear. "W-why? I-I-I-I did everything she told me…"

The new guy shrugged and my mind furiously tried to unravel why in the hell did this Arthur respond to "Badger". "Dunno," the new guy replied casually. "I think it's something about the expense reports. Did you finish yours?"

"Badger's" eyes widened even further to comical proportions and without another stammering word, he rushed into the maze of cubicles. New Guy chuckled and turned back to me, smile on full. My stomach churned again with dread. I really didn't want to add to the $1500 ticket mound I already had…

After a moment of looking me over, New Guy held out his hand for me to shake. "Hiya. You must be the new transfer, no?"

I merely nodded and kept my hands firmly in their respective pockets. One thing I knew about happy people is that they don't know when to let go of my hand. New Guy quickly took the hint that he wasn't trapping my hand in his Vulcan Death Grip of Happiness, and put it back into his own pocket casually. "Cool, we need another guy ever since Angie bagged Lillian. But then again, Lillian wasn't really that great an asset anyway. I mean, she was nice to look at, but that's pretty much it." He paused for a while, I suppose to allow me to introduce myself, but I didn't take it. I wanted to get to my cubicle as quickly as possible before another violent outburst came.

He took a couple of steps back and glanced at the cubicle maze. "All right, dude. Just so you know, I'm gonna give you the run-down of this place. There are more than a few empty cubicles, since Angela doesn't believe in an 8 hour workday, but you need to pick your space wisely." He pointed to the general direction of the bottom left corner, where Badger had disappeared. "Badger is over there. There are plenty of reasons why you shouldn't sit beside him." He pointed just above Badger's cubicle and chuckled. "Napoleon is over there."

I leaned a bit away from him, narrowing my eyes with scrutiny. "'Napoleon'?"

New Guy laughed again and nodded. "Yup. He's an angry midget. Well, not really a midget, he's 5 feet tall, but he may as well be one. And I think I saw a couple of world maps with X's on certain cities…" He laughed at my expression, which was something akin to amusement and horror. "Yeah. So you probably don't want to sit there."

He pointed to the other side of the maze then, and commented airily, "That's where Lillian used to work. It's probably your best bet, but it's right outside Angela's office." He shuddered.

My eyebrow quirked again. "What's wrong with her? Whenever I watch someone talk about her, it's as if she's a poltergeist or something."

New Guy shook his head, eyes wide with terror. "She's the ultimate bitch. But not only is she a bitch, she's a SMART bitch. She'll rip through you one side and down the other, and when you try to fight back, she'll pummel you back down and grind you through a meat processor."

"Sounds bad," I replied coolly as I made my way to my new cubicle. I shoved the "disorderly behavior" tickets into my pocket, half-listening to New Guy as I briskly walked.

"Bad?" New Guy repeated, "Bad? She's one of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse! She has this policy that you can't ask her a question while her computer's booted. Oh, and she has a little sheet of paper in her desk."

"And that's out of the ordinary how?" I replied, keeping my gaze forward.

"It has all of the names of the people she's fired, plus a time next to it." I turned my head, giving him a confused glance. "It's her record for firing someone! She actually keeps track!"

Despite the nonsense coming out of New Guy's mouth, I found my empty cubicle, sat down and began to unpack my things. New Guy leaned lightly on one of the walls and sighed. Apparently, he caught on that I could take care of myself. "Fine, then," he sighed. "I guess I'll put you down for this space. Name's Jim. People like to call me 'Pika' though."

I paused in unpacking to look at him. "Why?"

He shuffled his feet sheepishly as he summoned up the courage to answer. "Because I… still like Pokemon. And that I really hate Pikachu. Raichu is so much better."

I shook my head and threw a stapler at him, which hit his arm. "Get out of here." As he left, I sighed and ran my hands through my hair. What a conglomeration of misfits! A bipolar guy named "Badger", an angry midget named "Napoleon", and a little moron named "Pika". Then there's my new boss, who is supposed to be Satan's wife or something. I allowed my head to roll and rest on my right hand. Well, at least it wouldn't be boring.

I would just go out of my mind, is all.

…………

**Angelus**

The greatest hour in the day is not when I get to leave, but when I get off for my lunch. The reason being everyone tries to bombard me with questions and I have the opportunity to practice my aim with my faithful staple gun. As soon as I walked out of my office, Pika bumped into me, earning a squeak from the kid. He tensed up like a little mouse and pointed meekly toward Lillian's old desk. "The… The new guy's here."

I stared at him for a long, torturous moment, enjoying how he squirmed under my gaze. Finally, I smiled and said, "Thank you, Pika. Did you get his name?"

Pika shook his head. "No… He's… not much of a talker. Kind of an asshole, really."

I gave him a disapproving glance and looked down at my watch. "I suppose that'll go down on your permanent file…" As his bright blue eyes widened with horror, I gave him a cheery smile and made my way down to the new victim. "Enjoy your lunch, Pika."

I left him standing in front of my office to go and meet Lillian's replacement, my walk becoming a little bouncier. New meat was always fun to play with. I rounded the corner and looked down to the transfer, and for some reason, my head began to pound. It couldn't be…

The shape of his head, the way he leaned over on his desk, the color of his hair, his scent, everything… was the same… I stood there, shocked, as he finally noticed I was there and turned to look at me. I flinched as I saw his dark blue eyes, those same ones that always glazed over in my nightmares. He leaned back in his chair and looked me over, and after an awkward moment, raised a brow. "…I suppose you're Angela?"

Hearing him say a bastardized version of my real name sent pangs of guilt and anguish through my chest. I quickly recomposed myself and gave a curt nod. "You suppose correctly. You're from one of the Colorado branches, correct?"

He nodded and I couldn't help but see Caim in his place. Usually, souls don't affect what the body appearances are, but there are the occasional exceptions… I jerked myself out of my flurried thoughts as his eyebrow inclined further. This wasn't Caim. This was a reincarnation of Caim. Two different people. I cocked my head to the side and asked, "Your name?"

He leaned back a bit and smirked. "Cael. Cael Wolff."

…………

What a sucky way to end the chapter!

By the way, you should know that Pika is Nowe's reincarnation, and Napoleon -who you have yet to formally meet- is Gismor. Angelus didn't know either of them in this timeline, so there's no way she'd know.

So Angie meets Cael. And Cael is Caim's reincarnation. Whoop.

Ja!


	5. It All Leads Up To

This chapter was edited because I didn't like how it was. And I changed names.

**Linger**

**Chapter Five**

**It All Leads Up to...**

**Cael**

It's rather unnerving when your new boss just stares at you constantly.

It had been about two months since my transfer, when I was uprooted very rudely from my cozy home in Denver. My belongings are still packed in their nice labeled cardboard boxes; though Freya, my fiancee, still yells at me to unpack them, I can't bring myself to. I keep feeling as if I'm about to leave anyway. I've now created a nice niche in the office as the "strong, silent asshole", though Pika likes to come and annoy me. And though he was strange at first, I'm come to kind of like Badger, Angela's personal welcome mat.

However, as I earlier mentioned, Angela seems to… have a habit of staring at me. A lot. I didn't really care at first, because I thought she may keep expecting to see Lillian -the one I replaced- in my spot. But surely, after two months, that would have stopped. But no, it hasn't. She keeps staring. I took a sip of my coffee as I leaned against the counter in the breakroom, Pika and Badger sitting at the small, round table adjacent to my position.

"So are you guys psyched for the booze cruise tonight?" Pika asked excitedly. "I can't believe Angela's actually doing this for us."

Badger shook his head. "It's a guise; she's going to spring something on us. Like, telling us that our branch is closing down or something. She'd never do something simply out of the kindness of her own heart."

Pika nodded his head slowly. "Yeah… there is no kindness in there… Nor is there a heart..."

An unsettling silence settled over the three of us as we contemplated all of the evils that could possibly be behind this gesture of goodwill. Pika cleared his throat.

"W-Well, I heard that it wasn't even her idea," he stated with a twinge of hope in his voice. "It was the other owner's, Logan I think is his name."

I swirled my coffee. "And have you met him?" I asked as I watched the brown liquid circle in my cup. Pika shook his sandy brown head slowly.

"No, not personally…" The small glimmer of hope he had dissipated once again into the void of despair that lingered through the office.

I looked up from my coffee and smirked. "Then how do you know he's not like Angela? He could be hiding something and that's why she agreed to it. We could all be losing our jobs…" I commented loftily, making Pika and Badger shiver.

"M-Maybe he's completely different!" Badger cried out, his voice catching in his throat. I chuckled. His nervousness made his vocal chords reminisce his teenage years. "I mean… He… He always seemed nice…"

I cocked my head. "Thought you'd never met him?"

Badger shrugged. "I-I meant in the memos he would send out… Angela's are always angry and condes-s-scending."

I shook my head and glanced over to where the door to the break room was, and through the window, I could see Angela pause and take a lingering glance at me. I cocked my brow at her, and she seemed to have remembered what she was doing and left my line of sight. Pika laughed.

"Man, I think she has it for you!" he cried in a harsh whisper. "She is ogling you!"

I shuddered. "Ugh. Probably wanting to suck my soul out or something. I don't think that woman's capable of love."

Pika shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "Who said anything about 'love', buddy?" Badger managed a nervous chuckle and sipped his drink. Pika had a large smirk on his young face as he stared at me. I simply glared and downed the rest of my coffee and made my way back to my cubicle. Just thinking about the possibility that she was actually attracted to me made my stomach churn… and yet... there was something...

Something... I couldn't put my finger on...

**Angelus**

My heart raced every time I looked at him.

It was awful. Simply horrible. I couldn't believe that I -a DRAGON for Diety's sake- that at first, I actually hid in my office until closing, which scared the rest of my employees. And even now, two months later, it seemed that I can't keep my eyes off of him; if I look away, he'll disappear again… I let my head slip a little in my hand. I was sitting at my black obsidian desk, doing mundane paperwork.

Caim…

I took a deep breath and recomposed myself. Now was NOT the time to be wallowing in my own self-pity. I had work to do, most of it dealing with the stupid "booze cruise" tonight. It was Logan's idea, saying that it was "good for the employees to get out of the workplace every once in a while". Well, that's what they go home for. "Damn philanthropist…" I snarled to myself as I signed an insurance document. It felt like a trap. It always did with Logan.

There was a knock at my door. I looked to my computer, saw that it had been mysteriously turned off, and growled again. "If you're the one that turned my computer off, I'm going to kill you if you walk in this office."

There was a low sigh and I heard Cael's voice say, "I didn't touch your damn computer. I need to talk to you, though."

My voice caught in my throat for a moment. How was it that even his voice was the same? That same voice that choked out my name in my nightmares… I cursed every divine being I could think of that could have been responsible for it and growled out a sigh. "Fine. Come in, Wolff."

Cael opened the door and casually walked in, a hand in his nice slack's pocket. He didn't bother sitting down, but that may have been due to the fact that I didn't invite him to take a seat. "What do you need so desperately that you're taking time away from being productive to ask me?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "It's about the booze cruise. Are we allowed to bring spouses or is it specifically employees only?"

The shock went through me like lightning and my chest clenched. He was married? Someone _wanted_ to marry him? I floundered for a moment before regaining control over the English language. "…You're married?"

He shook his head and some part of me took a deep breath of relief. "No, engaged. But you didn't answer my question."

I shook my head to clear it and waved a hand. "Yes, it's fine, if you only have one fiancée. I wouldn't be too appreciative if you brought your entire harem with you." I tried to hide my shock with my somewhat desperate humor.

It seemed to have worked. He chuckled and shifted his weight to the other leg. "No, it's just the one. I think she's the only one who can actually stand me longer than five minutes, so you don't have to worry about a harem." He gave a smirk and turned to leave. "Thanks. I'll go ahead and tell her." Before I could say anything else, he walked out.

I watched him go and sighed heavily. I should have thought that in this day and age, he wouldn't be warmongering and bloodthirsty… That some other woman would have grabbed onto him as fast as she could… By human standards, he was quite handsome. Not that I myself found him attractive, but there was still some part of me that wanted him near me… that wanted him to fill that void in my mind ever since the damn Nameless broke our pact…

I sighed again and leaned back in my wonderfully comfy chair, closing my eyes, letting my mind wander back thousands of years to when I soared above the land, my crimson wings holding the both of us in the sparkling night sky. To the nights when he and I were together…

…

"Angie, don't be so uptight!" Aaron, the receptionist from my branch cried as he clapped a drunken hand against my back, earning an "oof" from me. "You should loosen up, it's a party! A pretty girl like you should- hey, wait!"

I growled as I left the table. No one wanted to leave me alone, it seemed. And it didn't help that I despised parties. I sat down angrily at an empty table and heaved a furious sigh. It was settled. I was going to kill Logan for his ludicrous idea.

I spotted him mingling amongst some more sober employees, casually talking about some troublesome buyer. He was a tall man, greying black hair; an aged man, but still seemed young. His eyes, though hidden by blue contacts, were in actuality red: he too was a dragon in hiding, like myself. It was the only reason why I could stand him half the time, but sometimes, even that didn't save him.

For example, now.

I glowered at the back of his graying head, my arms and legs crossed tightly. He seemed to notice after a moment, turned to me, gave an amiable wave, and turned back to the employees. I growled. _"You unimaginable bastard."_ I spat in his mind.

There was a low, masculine chuckle in my own before he said, _"Just wait until I unveil my plans later this evening."_

I cocked a brow. _"Oh? And what would those be, Slime of the Earth?"_

His voice was mockingly pained. _"You wound me, my dear Angela. I think you'll enjoy what I've got planned…You shouldn't judge until you know what it is."_

I snarled at him. _"Don't call me by that name, Crow."_

I saw him turn a little toward me, an indiscernible expression on his slightly tanned face. _"…You've yet to tell me to call you anything else, Angela. Don't you trust me enough to tell me your name?"_

My glare narrowed. _"Not until you tell me yours,"_ I replied simply. He laughed in my mind as he turned back around and walked away.

_"Why don't you come out and learn more about your employees? It's rather fascinating to discover their intimate lives…I'm sure you're interested in one in particular…" _I could feel his grin in his voice. I huffed and turned my head to the side, away from him.

_"I have no idea what you're talking about."_

Another low, knowing chuckle rumbled in my mind. _"Suit yourself…" _

I sat there for a moment before rolling my eyes and turning the other way, to the window. We were on a large, man-made lake on a giant yacht that Logan had rented for the night. I frowned as I looked into the port window and stared longingly at the twinkling night sky. I imagined what it would be like to unfurl my wings once again and soar through the clouds… Everything was so much simpler then…

I closed my eyes as an angry tear threatened to fall. It was pure torture, looking at that damn sky. The same damn sky I flew in with Caim, fighting blindly for some lost cause… taking it all for granted…

…

**Cael**

More people had shown up than I expected, but it was a yacht after all; who wanted to pass the chance to gloat that they had been on a yacht?

...Well, excluding me.

But Freya was insistent that she and I go, or at least make an appearance. And even though it wasn't mandatory, there was a rumor going around that one of the partners was going to announce something, something big. So I figured that we could go, listen to the "big news" and then leave so I could get some decent sleep.

Freya fixed her long, wine-colored skirt and looked up at me with her bright blue eyes. We were standing on the deck, leaning on the railing and looking up at the sky. Romantic shit like that. "So, how are you liking it so far, Mr. Anti-social?" she asked happily.

I rolled my eyes. "The same as any party. I'd rather be home. So what, we're on a large, expensive boat. Whoopdee- freaking- doo."

She laughed and gave me a side hug. "You're so angry, honey… Do you need to take a 'chill pill'?" she asked, looking up at me with a witty smirk.

I frowned and shook my head. She thought calling my pills by a witty nickname made it easier on me or... something stupid like that. "No, Freya… I'm not feeling homicidal yet…" I smiled a little and ruffled her hair. "But when I do, I'll tell you so you can hide anything sharp or with projectile capabilities, okay?"

She smiled brightly back up at me. "Okay, dear." She gave me a kiss on the cheek and leaned away. "But though you hate every person on the earth, I would like to get to know some before you wind up killing them. I'm gonna go mingle." She kissed my cheek again before happily skipping inside, her light brown hair bouncing with her. I watched her until I couldn't see her anymore, then turned back to the starlit sky, allowing my mind to roam amongst it.

I found myself remembering fuzzy dreams of flying. Those were my most cherished dreams, as strange as it would seem. It was always either a cloudy afternoon or moonlit evening, but the dreams were pretty consistent. I always remember a strange, low-pitched, steady sound all around me or the occasional roar of a beast. Fire would spring all around me, but never burn me… The strangely soothing touch of something rough and hard beneath me…

I shook my head. My psychiatrists always told me that my dreams were simply my subconscious wanting to get out of a situation I happened to be in, or away from my troubles. Everyone had them from time to time. But, to me, it didn't seem like that. It was too different to seem like it was simply my subconscious wanting to escape. I could never quite put my finger on it, though…

I heard a sound behind me and turned, glad for the distraction from my thoughts. I was a little surprised to see Angela, expectedly angry about something. She paused when she saw me, but nodded and walked calmly over to the railing, leaning on it beside me. She wasn't close, but she wasn't far, either. "…Having fun, I see," she commented quietly.

"About as much as you, looks like," I replied just as softly. Strangely enough, I didn't feel the fear or nervousness around her like everyone else seemed to. I felt… calm… "Can't stand them anymore?" I asked, nodding my head back to the party.

She growled and rolled her eyes. "God, no. I swear, Crow does things like this just to piss me off." She heaved a heavy sigh and turned away, still muttering angrily. I made a face.

"Shouldn't you like him?" She turned to my question, brow raised. "I mean," I continued, "you run a company together, shouldn't you at least like each other?"

She sighed and put her cheek in her hand. "I like him when I don't see him, if that counts. His branch is in New York, so we get along when we're apart. I suppose the only reason why the company hasn't gone under is that we think alike when it comes to the business itself; we don't have to communicate all that much to make certain decisions." She shrugged. "Though, right now, I'm really thinking about killing him and taking over the company myself."

I smirked. The more I talked to her (and the more she didn't stare at me) the more I grew to like her. "What's stopping you?"

She gave me a tired look and turned back to the lake. "I'd have to do all the work myself… Unfortunately, I don't have that great a work ethic when it comes to running the company. Crow does most of the work, really." I chuckled a little and she gave a small smirk. She switched hands to lean on and glanced at me before asking, "So where's your fiancee? I'd like to meet her."

I gave her a mildly surprised look; I hadn't expected her to ask about Freya. "Uh… inside. These social events are more her thing than mine. She actually likes people." I shrugged. "…Do you really want to meet her? She's another human being."

Angela shrugged as well. "…If she can stand you, she might be able to stand me, and someone that can stand me isn't that horrible of a person."

I chuckled and nodded. "Yeah… She's really great…" I shrugged and smiled at her, to which she gave me a strange look. "…I'll go get her, okay? Stay here."

…

**Angelus**

It almost broke my heart, the way he looked when he spoke of her.

I sadly watched him leave, my forced smile fading quickly. I had never thought my lunatic, rabid Caim capable of love… I shook my head. It wasn't Caim. He was Cael Wolff, an angry, yes, but not psychotic, human. He wasn't Caim.

My face was in my hands as I tried to get my thoughts in order. He had given me that look once and only once- a few days before his untimely demise. I didn't think it was provoked, or caused by something I did or said, he simply turned and gave me that look… A kind, gentle smile I never imagined possible on his normally deranged face. And as soon as it disappeared, he turned and it never returned…

I growled out a sigh and rubbed my sore eyes, frustrated. It was infuriating that after all of this time, I still didn't have my emotions under control. I was like a yearling again, sobbing or sniveling whenever something struck a nerve. Ridiculous. Maybe it WAS time to hit the alcohol... But before I could start to try and release my anger, I heard footsteps behind me.

Turning, I saw Cael and a small, frail-looking woman next to him. My eyes widened in shock and humor. Really? Despite my need to laugh uncontrollably at how the Fates had ironically formed Cael's life, I held out a friendly hand to the girl. "Hello, miss. I'm Angela, Cael's boss. You must be his fiancee."

The girl smiled and nodded, taking my hand and shaking it lightly. I had expected a light grip from her; after all, it wasn't in her nature to be forceful. "Hello, Ms. Regall. Yes, You're right, I'm Freya. It's an honor to finally meet you."

I nodded and my smile grew, but not in friendliness. 'Oh, Caim, the gods torture you still…' I whispered in my mind. 'If you only knew who your fiancee is… or rather, was…' "Thank you, Freya. I see you're having fun. I'm glad."

She nodded and smiled more. "Oh, yes, I love parties. Cael usually sulks outside, though…" She smirked and nudged him with her elbow in his side, earning a low grunt from him. "But it's good to see that he has someone to talk to while he's being anti-social." She shook my hand again and kissed Cael's cheek. "Oh, and I think the other owner is about to make that announcement." She almost skipped back inside and I couldn't help notice Cael watch her as she left.

I took a calming breath and smirked. "Bouncy, isn't she?"

He stuck his tongue out at me and turned to leave as well. "Better get inside then, huh?"

…

There was going to be more in this chapter, but I felt that 10 pages is enough. I feel like it's rambling a little. It probably should be two chapters, but I don't feel like lengthening it to make it two. :3


	6. The Announcement

Well, here we are, however many years later. :) This chapter was actually commissioned by a reader, and so I am forced to write.

Not much of Cael in this chapter. He just didn't fit in anywhere. XD Hope you guys enjoy~

If you're interested, my commission info is here: .com . There's a link in the journal for prices.

**Linger**

**Chapter Six**

**...The Announcement**

**Angelus**

I made my way back inside with Cael and Freya through the crowd to the side where the cheese dishes and whatnot were out for the grazers. Logan was up with a small mike and was shushing the crowd.

"Now, now everyone," he said as the idle chatter from the crowd dulled down. "There've been rumors as to why Angie and I have brought you all here tonight and I can affirm that, no, none of the branches are closing, nor are we getting married," he said with a hearty laugh. I nearly choked on the cheese cube I was eating. "No," he continued as the crowd chuckled, "it's... somewhat different. Angie, why don't you join me to deliver the news?"

He outstretched his hand and waved me over, as the others scooted and made way for me to reach the stage. Putting as much effort into the pseudo-smile as I could, I gracefully made my way to him and looked at him to go on. _"...And just what are you getting me into...?" _I snarled at his mind.

Logan gave me a chilling smirk. _"We're going back home, Love." _"We are finally opening a branch outside the US, ladies and gentlemen. We're going to be in jolly ole' England! And this branch will be the fronting the entire European move!" He allowed the crowd to yip and cheer in excitement.

I could feel the blood drain from my face as it hit me. England... After all the centuries I had been running from that damn country, he was sitting me on a catapult and flinging me back there? Oh, no. No sir. This was not going to fly, not as long as I held breath in my lungs! I took a firm -or bone cracking, take your pick of adjective- of Logan's wrist and said softly, "I will talk to you in private. Now."

He waved to the crowd of cheering and chatty employees and I quickly dragged him to the back, where I whirled and restrained the urge to set him aflame. "England? Bloody ENGLAND? And when were you going to tell me, when I was on the Goddamned PLANE?"

He chuckled and placed a hand on my shoulder to try and calm me. "No, my dear, I was going to tell you... well, just now. Your reaction was well worth it." His coy, toothy grin grew. "I figured you were a little homesick, so I figured you'd be happy to go back. After all, I wouldn't mind a trip back home, either."

I shoved his hand off of my shoulder and brought my hand up to slap him, but then lowered it. I was better than that... I kept my voice low and calm as I spoke. "...I thought I made it quite clear when we started this that I would have nothing to do with England. If I so wanted to go back, I would have done so by now. You... You CAN'T make me go back."

Much to my dismay, his smile never left him. "Can't I? You, like the rest of us, are bound by this society's rulings and options. You can't just scamper off and hide like you used to, Angela," he spoke as his calm demeanor fluctuated to reveal something... else... My gaze narrowed. What was he plotting...? "All the edges of the map have been drawn and are watched with satellites. The monsters that once dwelt on the unknown have been tamed or slain." He started to move in a circle around me. "The point I'm getting at, Angela, is, what choice do you have? Either you do as I say, or... I relieve you."

The threat, though subtle, was not overheard. "...'Relieve me'? You mean, fire me?"

Logan tsked and shook his head. "Now, I don't want to get into any unpleasantness. This is, after all, a party." He put his hand back onto my shoulder. "I just hope you don't make the wrong mistake and do something rash..." He patted my shoulder and left, leaving me with a horrific feeling of inferiority.

When he was gone, I rammed my fist into the wall, which went through with a satisfying crunch of dry wall and plaster. I sighed as small bits of debris fell onto my arm and took in a deep breath as I righted myself. How dare he THREATEN me! The nerve of that blithering ass! Cornering me and forcing me to go back... it reeked of a set up.

Though, he was right... I couldn't run off and hide anymore. Not like I could in the old days. The world was too small for that now. Too cluttered. Not only that, the dragon haven had disappeared for good, as far as I could tell. And even if I could fly and try to find it, I wouldn't even know where to begin. And risking traveling in my true form was too much for the slim chance I could get away. I was sure it was the only reason Logan hadn't done the same.

The sound of someone softly clearing their throat caught me off guard and I turned to see Cael standing rather uncomfortably. "I, uh... I had something to ask, but I walled- I mean, I forgot, so... I guess I'll leave you alone..."

I shook my head and brushed off the powder and bits of dry wall to gesture for him to stay. "No, no... You're fine. What was it that you wanted to ask me?"

Cael made a face. "Just... Uhm... Who all is getting transferred to England and how long will it be and when are we leaving? Cause I was thinking that, since I just got here and all, I could stay and, you know, hold down the fort..."

I waved my hand, dispersing the question casually. "I honestly don't know. Crow just sprung this on all of us, including myself, so I really can't tell you anything. I'll get back to you and the other employees within the end of next week. Just... go back out and enjoy."

He nodded quickly and turned to leave, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

**Cael**

I don't think I'd been as terrified of a person like I was right then. She had just punched through a freaking WALL and wasn't even breaking a sweat! All I could think about was a thirty-foot green version of her stomping around Tokyo roaring "HULK SMASH!" and destroying stuff. So when she asked me a question, it caught me off guard and I stumbled through the conversation, hoping to emerge from it in one piece. When it finally ended after what seemed an eternity, I escaped as fast as I possibly could without causing too much of a distraction.

Badger caught me as I tried to find Freya in the crowd. His face was beet red to go with his hair. "H-Hey, wha's the hurrey?" he slurred.

I swallowed and attempted to keep myself calm. "Uh... Just... Gotta go, is all. Have you seen my fiancée?" When he shook his head, I went past him to find Freya at the snack bar, pouring herself another round of punch. I was not going to stay here even if they offered me the world...

**Angelus**

_The night air was cool on my face, the breeze chilled with the moisture of an approaching storm. I took in the sweet, free air, enjoying it as it not only filled my nose and lungs, but my wings as well. It was a well-received relief from the previous weather, which had been naught but heat and humidity. The moon was fully waxed, its brilliance shining down on the desolate land below with its ethereal light._

_I recalled that never before my adventuring with the madman and the other misfits had I enjoyed a simple nighttime flight like I was right then. I looked down to see the aforementioned man staring up at me -or attempting to at least- as he sat on a nearby stump. For a reason I can't remember now, I dove down to meet him. He did not flinch at my loud wing beats, nor at how close they came at him as I landed; he was far too used to them by now. He glanced up at me and gave me a small smirk. _"Having fun, are we?"_ he asked in my mind._

_I let out a slow rumble in my chest. _"And what, pray tell, is wrong with a simple night flight?" _I glanced around as he gave a simple shrug. _"Why are you not asleep, Caim? The she-elf might take advantage of your weakness and devour you next chance she sees."

_He chuckled bitterly in my mind as he shifted to leaning on his hands behind him. _"...No, she wouldn't. For one, she'd have to go through you, and we've both seen how that works. And two, she'd prefer the kid first anyhow."

_And then, though we said nothing else to each other, I knew why he was really there, watching the night from that stump. Why he was unable to sleep. Without another word, I lowered myself to allow him to mount my back, and waited. He looked up, considered something for a moment, then got on. I heaved myself back up into the sky, the moon guiding my way. _

_Nothing was spoken throughout the flight. We didn't need to speak. At one point, I turned my head, curious as to what he was doing to find he had already fallen asleep. It was always so... relieving... to see him sleep. To see that warmongering, restless, bloodthirsty spirit finally find some sense of peace, if only for a few hours. I suppose it gave me hope then- not hope to survive the war, but the hope that if we did, the two of us would be able to move on after the war, to be able to move past the stupid violence and horror... _

_...To finally be able to sleep without worry, to go through a day without murdering some mindless Imperial soldier, to be done with this. To let it be _over_. For peace to find a place within us..._

My eyes opened lazily as the memory/ dream/ subconscious babble faded from my mind, and I found myself staring at my ceiling. How my soul ached after those memories; it remembered what it was like to have a pact, to be joined with something. Even now, centuries later, it was still sore... I frowned and tried to brush it off as heartburn and stood. It was almost time for me to get up anyway.

I went through my normal morning routine, the repetition allowing me to ponder on the thoughts from last night. Soon after Cael had found me, I left the party and went home. Europe... I sighed and collected myself. It should be fine. We were probably going to end up in England- no other choice made that much sense. Though England was a battleground, it wasn't a remarkable landmark, e.g. Caim's castle site or the Imperial City. It was going to be fine. And besides, it wasn't going to be permanent...

Work was simple enough. No one approached me for anything, no angry clients or troublesome malfunctions or whatnot. It was a pretty normal day. Mundane in all of its splendor, I spent most of the day cleaning out my e-mail. Monotony in its finest form.

That is... until I got home.

I had just made some coffee when there was a knock on my apartment door. Frankly, the only ones who visited were Girl Scouts, religious solicitors and other door-to-door salesmen of the like, so I wasn't too keen on looking to find out who it was. Though, as I pondered, the knock sounded again, and I groaned. When I went to the peephole, I found none other than Logan Crow. Fan-bloody-tastic.

I groaned again for different reasons and opened the door. "Logan, this is a surprise. I thought you'd be back on your way to your throne in New York?"

He simply smiled -the one that makes me want to chomp it off of his face- and sighed. "No, not quite yet. I have some things to discuss with you before I left. I _was_ going to discuss them with you on the ship, but you left so abruptly..."

My eye twitched as I moved aside to let him in and shut the door behind him. Before I could make up whatever excuse I could to cover myself, he spoke. "Now, I know you're upset. I remember what it's like to lose your pact-mate and... I suppose you were particularly close to yours. However, when what I have planned comes to light, I think you'll forgive me, dear Angela."

I frowned. I knew there was something wrong. "...'What you have planned'? And what does that mean, exactly?"

He chuckled as he had a seat on my sofa. "Come now, I know you're smarter than that, dear. You probably already figured there was an... ulterior motive to going to Europe. You and I both know what happened there, all those years ago. Nearly every single dragon still alive knows what happened. The fallout between mortals and the Gods. Man pitted against the red-eyed slaves of the Immortals as we, the superior mortal beings, watched as it played out beneath us. And with that, war and death and all of that nonsense. _That_ is what happened, is it not?"

I was always a little uncomfortable with how little I knew about Logan, but now, I was more wary. But then, he said something that made my throat catch. "Though, as I recall, you were... a bit more involved in the fight, weren't you, Angela?"

I stepped back a bit. "...What do you know about that, Crow? How would you know where I was then, amidst all of that chaos? Who do you think I am?"

That damn Cheshire grin never faded as he stood again and stretched. " There's no need to be huffy, Angela. I don't want to get ahead of myself, since karma doesn't appreciate being taken for granted, but when I have more of the necessary tools at my disposal, I'll fill you in more of what I have in store. Just know that Europe is very, _very_ important."

As I stood there, stunned, he walked back toward my front door. "Just remember what the Nameless did to us as a race, Angela. Because of their sins, we, the dominant, far superior race, has been exiled into myth and legend. We are forced to coerce with the lower species... and I'm tired of it. If not for us, then remember what they've done to _you_." And with that, he left me as my mind reeled.

...Europe... the Nameless... Just what was Logan to do about them, about _Gods_? Who _was_ this man to know who I was back during the war? Or was he simply bluffing? If he was, he was damn good at it.

I found myself sitting in a chair, head spinning and aching. It would be better if I played along to see just where he would lead me. I chuckled bitterly at myself. It's been a while since a madman led me on a wild goose chase, why the hell not?


End file.
